The Past and the Present
by FablehavenFunLovin
Summary: A series of hilarious short drabbles about a wood elf named Cora discovering herself in Skyrim and Hiccup as a talking fish bone on Berk, before they met and paired up to save the world.
1. Drabble 1: Boys will be Boys

**Hello readers! I have decided to start a drabble series because I have so many ideas in my head that I would love to show you guys! Hope you enjoy! Also, leave a review below with a prompt for future drabbles and I will be sure to squeeze them in there, enjoy!**

**Drabble 1: Boys will be Boys**

Cora sat cradling her chin in her right hand, elbow supporting its weigh on one of the wooden tables down in the Ragged Flagon of Riften. Her eyelids were slipping shut as she absentmindedly swirled a tankard of mead in her left hand. Her tired eyes darted back and forth between Brynjolf and Delvin, arguing rather comically in front of Vekel's bar.

"Come on now, Bryn! You know well as I that the girl was lookin' a' me!" Delvin said, stomping his foot angrily. The old thief rarely lost his cool, but when he did, no one wanted to miss it.

To this, Brynjolf scoffed. "Now you're just lying to yourself, Delvin. That fine lass was eyein' me up. Ain't that right, Cora?" He turned to her, trying to get her onto his side with a desperate wiggle of his eyebrows.

Cora let her mouth form into a hard line and she shrugged, not moving from her rather bored position. "I didn't see anything."

Brynjolf tilted his head and held his arms out to her in a pleading motion. "Back me up here, lass, after the two years we have spe-" His voice was replaced with a loud _oompf_ and the rush of air out of his lungs. Delvin had tackled him to the ground, the pair tumbling over past Cora's table and splashing into the grey murky water.

Cora watched them squirm in the water before sighing and turning around to finish her drink. The rest of the Guild was cheering, alternating the chanting of names, depending on who was winning. Money began being handed from one hand to the next, with Vekel even running out from behind his bar to hoot and place his own bets.

The current name on everyone's lips was Delvin, because straddling the ginger Nord across the chest and aiming a hard punch at his square jaw. Brynjolf dodged, using Delvin's own momentum against him and effectively flipping him over his shoulder and into the gutter, sewer water splashing everywhere. The Guild was up in a riot when Brynjolf stood with his fists up, beckoning Delvin closer with a sly grin on his face.

As the squabble continued, Cora nursed her mead silently. She lifted an eyebrow over her mug when Vex slid into a seat next to her, eyeing her suspiciously. "Why do I feel like you had something to do with this?"

Cora shrugged again. "Boys will be boys."

Vex crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, obviously not satisfied with the answer she was given. Cora rolled her eyes before stifling a giggle. "I _may_ have been practicing my illusion magic in the market place today. _Possibly_ disguising myself as a busty blond. 30 on Bryn, by the way."

Vex shook her head back and forth with a slight amused grin on her face. "You're terrible."


	2. Drabble 2: Illusion

**Hellow all! Here is another update to the drabble series. This will be covered in SoM, but I'm just way to excited about it so here we go.**

**Illusion**

Ulfric leaned back in his throne with a sigh, letting his back hit against the hard stone of the back. He squinted his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his growing headache to vanish. He would have to ask his court wizard for a spell or a potion later, just so he could make it through the day.

"I told you, I am not claiming the throne yet. High King is not an achievable goal in the present situation, I have not gotten all of the Jarls on my side. The Imperials have even been gaining ground."

The Dunmer man in rags before him spit at the throne's steps before standing back up tall and raising his chin high. "How can we expect you to rule all of Skyrim when you can't even help the people of this city, you racist and undeserving bastard! My family starved because of your careless regime!"

The Jarl of Windhelm could not be bothered. He simply sighed again and stared at the man, looking almost bored with the situation like he had heard it one hundred times before. The elf before him was beginning to see red when faced with his Jarl's blatant nonchalance. "Are we done here?" Ulfric muttered.

The elf took a step forward, swearing he had seen something flicker across the man's features. "Not even close, _Jarl Ulfric_," he spat, his name crossing his tongue like it was slanderous. "I know part of you loathes leaving this city to rot in the cold. Its children to die. Like my daughter."

Something about his sentence had struck a chord, and the Jarl lost his poker face.

One of the Stormcloaks guards stepped forward to roughly grab him by the upper arm and haul him away from the Jarl, determined to relieve the palace of this nuisance. The elf was soon struggling against their grip, rage building in his eyes. He was too busy shoving against the guards that he almost missed a shadow emerging from the darkness of the corridor, fire lit in her hands.

"I think that you have given my father quite enough trouble," a sultry voice sounded.

The man looked up to find the figure of a woman now standing at Ulfric's side, her face shouded by the bear head of her Stormcloak officer helmet but her dark hands glowing with magical fire.

The man scoffed in return. "You're this brute's daughter? How charming," he scoffed.

The guard tightened his grip. "What do we do with him, Ms. Stormcloak?"

"Leave him be," she spoke again. "I want him to see who I am."

The man watched in awe as the young woman removed her helmet, bearing her gray skin the world. Words were caught in his throat, and he wasn't quite sure what to think as he took in her appearance. Her skin was a light shade of purplish-black, obviously toned from her Nordic genes, but her dark hair, piercing red eyes, and shaped ears were all undeniably of Dunmer origin.

"My name is Chimera Bear Stormcloak," she spoke proudly. "Take another long look before you insult my father again."

The elf finally shrugged free from the guards and narrowed his eyes. "Undoubtedly a product of rape. It's just all worse than I thought. Besides, all a chimera is, is an illusion."

Jarl Ulfric clenched a fist and allowed his mouth to harden into a firm line, but Chimera stepped in front of him, putting herself between the man and her father. The elf stepped back before clearing his throat, more intimidated by this young woman than his Jarl.

"Exactly," she said, not letting her voice waver. "According to your stereotypes in this wrenched city, my mixed blood shouldn't exist. As my mother lay dying after delivering me, she named me that. Ironic, isn't it? I am far from an illusion."

The Dunmer man could no longer face her eyes, so kept his gaze towards the ground. When the palace went silent after a few moments, Chimera finally turned away to stand next to Ulfric again.

"Get this man out of my sight."


End file.
